Coloring MMA Badd

By: Jordan BreenApr 6, 2009

When I settled on a topic for this latest post-event opining, I
thought I might have some 'splainin' to do as to why I was so
sickened with Frank Mir's
color commentary for WEC 40. However, after a quick peek into my
inbox and a cursory glance at the Sherdog forums, I feel as though
my objections are justified.

In case your TiVo exploded, here's a recap: Mir, routinely
celebrated as a stellar technical analyst, ignores any and all
offense from Joseph
Benavidez and Takeya
Mizugaki in otherwise brilliant fights while butchering the
names of any and all brave enough to step into the cage with the
UFC's interim heavyweight champ on the mic (though I suspect
Jameel
Massouh may be used to it.)

Along the way, Mir confused grappling legend Saulo
Ribeiro, who has no recollection of giving Jeff Curran
his BJJ black belt (see: Pedro Sauer), before leaping into the cage
during the main event to give Miguel
Torres a sponge bath between the third and fourth rounds,
though it may be hard to imagine why MMA's bantamweight king would
have needed one. According to Mir, he didn't have to break a sweat
over his 25-minute war with Mizugaki.

As a devout pedant, I could spend the next thousand words
explaining why bungling names and facts is deplorable and
undermines the WEC product, but based on how much flak Mir is
getting from the MMA populace, I feel these ideas are understood if
not entrenched. What I am keener to expose is why Mir's color
commentary performance was so objectionable, and that it's not
simply his own malfeasance that's to blame for this kind of
gaffe-fest.

Mir's announcing indiscretions are particularly aggravating because
he's clearly capable of more. Most people took note of his skills
on the stick when, following his motorcycle melee, he took up color
duties at UFC 50. It wasn't the first time he was in the booth (he
also lent his insights to UFC 37). Yet at UFC 50, Mir was able to
fully flex his mental muscles on the technical grappling game,
where too often all that fans are given is a heavy-handed
endorsement of Eddie Bravo's "Mastering the Rubber Guard." Four and
a half years later, one would hope that Mir's commentary chops
would've improved.

However, there is a simple reason why Mir's UFC 50 erudition is now
an exception rather than the rule. Imagine starting any meaningful
job in the world; there is an inherent marriage of performance
anxiety and preoccupation with success. Naturally, people want to
succeed. Coupled with their personal reservations about their new
role, they tend to be efficient and impressive, just as Mir was.
Now working WEC events routinely, Mir is complacent. There's no
need to research, to learn names or to feign impartiality because
there are no consequences, unless you're silly enough to think
Versus and Zuffa care enough to axe him.

Photo by Sherdog.com

According to Mir, Miguel
Torres barely broke a sweat.

It may not even be realistic to suggest that Mir is capable of
doing an outstanding job as a color commentator. Frankly, the
attention to detail and research that should be part and parcel of
preparing for a broadcast may not jive well with the fact that Mir
happens to have another fairly important job in the industry.

If it came down to sitting in production meetings, learning about
fighters on the card and watching tape or spending time in the gym
to make sure Brock
Lesnar doesn't put one of his canned ham hands through your
face come July, which would you choose?

Complacency and time restraints don't address arguably the biggest
and most fundamental plague facing Mir or any color commentator in
MMA, though. Mir may be forced into his better instincts if he had
a legitimate broadcast partner, which Todd Harris is not.

There is a real reason racing fans revolted against Harris
(including a pathological obsession with Danica Patrick) and why he
remains on the sidelines during college football telecasts. I can't
feel total contempt for him, despite being a professional
broadcaster and not having to worry about defending his heavyweight
title any time soon. To me, his presence typifies the painful
realities of MMA commentary booths.

Commentary is difficult, period. The fact that there are so few
unanimously heralded and beloved commentators in sports that have
been around for centuries speaks volumes as to how challenging the
role can be. For MMA, which has been alive in its current form for
roughly two decades, the talent pool of play-by-play commentators
to draw from is very, very shallow. This creates an enormous
technical difficulty in MMA booths, as play-by-play commentators
who are normally the heart and soul of a great sports broadcast are
forced to be essentially professional straightmen and
facilitators.

The title "play-by-play commentator" denotes the calling of action;
this is supposed to be the most basic requirement of the job. Yet,
because of the technical complexities of the sport, MMA is replete
with clueless "professionals" whose knowledge doesn't extend far
beyond traditional stick-and-ball sports.

So, Harris is inadequate ... how does that impact Mir's
performance? Unfortunately, commentary doesn't exist in a vacuum;
it's about interactional chemistry. Because Harris can neither
offer context, insight nor even properly call action, Mir is forced
to call essentially all of the technical action himself on top of
describing its intricacies. This pattern exists in basically every
MMA booth because of the fact that there are really no gifted MMA
play-by-play announcers. Even the comparatively hyper-experienced
Mike Goldberg, who has called UFC events since before the Corn Laws
were repealed, barely calls any action. Instead he relies on Joe
Rogan, who is forced to fulfill both traditional commentary
roles.

This is a fundamental flaw that is endemic to MMA and one that's
not about to change in the near future. Therefore, guys like Mir,
who are already ill-suited to color commentary because of their
in-cage requirements, are forced to pick up an enormous amount of
slack for a human being who is fit to do nothing but take a
broadcast in and out of commercial breaks. As a result, on top of
being ill prepared, Mir has to talk endlessly until the fighters in
the cage can chill out momentarily and let Harris plug “Crank 2.”
(Side note: How the hell is Crank now a franchise?) Of course, this
is the complete inverse of how sports booths tend to functionally
operate, where experienced professionals can carry the insightful
but unnuanced athletes.

As gabby as I am, I could write volumes on the nature of MMA
commentary, its semiotic failures, its lack of context and its
inability to inform viewers. I'll save that for another time; this
is about Frank Mir specifically. He has a mass of forces working
against his success in the booth: a secure job, Brock Lesnar
breathing down his neck with only 24 hours in a day, a failure of a
broadcast partner who puts an enormous conversational load on his
shoulders.

However, we’re talking about an individual who overcame a
near-fatal motorcycle accident and a string of atrocious,
out-of-shape performances to regain a version of the UFC
heavyweight title, from getting pounded to a pulp by Pe de Pano to
being the first man to stop Antonio
Rodrigo Nogueira.

Fighting itself is about defying the odds. Here's hoping that,
whether it be through YouTube, flash cards or a 25-hour day, Mir
can salvage his status as a color commentator, too.